If Things Were Different
by Eiedolon
Summary: Harry plays guitar, Luna's his best friend, Malfoy's not such a jerk, I really have no plan for this and suggestions will be welcome. There will probably be some songs involved. LunaxHarry. Basically just gonna see how far I can go and redo the entire series with some different twists. Who knows? I hope you enjoy
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Happy birthday, my dear, darling, duddery dudders!" Petunia shouted from the living room as I heard rather heavy feet tromp down the hallway outside the door to my cupboard. I groaned quietly to myself, rubbing my eyes before reaching over to the small table next to my bed to pluck my hastily repaired glasses from their place, settling them onto the bridge of my nose. I sat up, stretching and shaking off the dust that had fallen down into my hair when Dudley had stormed down the stairs and startled me awake. Today was his eighth birthday, and naturally, on days when Dudley was at his happiest, I was treated the absolute worst.

"You lazy brat, get out here this instant and get started on your cousins birthday breakfast!" my uncle bellowed at me as he smashed his meaty fist against the brass grate in my door, which I immediately opened and stumbled out of, the bright light affecting my already bad eyesight. I hurried into the kitchen, pulled out an assortment of breakfast-themed foods, and put them up onto the counter. Seeing how I was only seven and not that tall, I dragged a chair from the dining room table to kneel on as I arranged several strips of bacon into the skillet, the wonderful aroma of frying pork beginning to seep into the air, warming me all throughout my body. I shook my head to bring myself back to reality. After all, there was no point in drooling over food that I wasn't going to be allowed to eat, anyway.

"I said i wanted a blue one! Not a bloody green one!" Dudley Dursley screeched at his pale-faced mother who visibly flinched as he threw an emerald-colored guitar right over her head.

"D-Duddy, that's alright! Yes, that's q-quite alright, we'll get you a new one on the way home from the cirque later today, is that quite alright, hmm?" my Aunt Petunia stuttered to him, hands clenched together almost in fear as her rabid son pondered this for a moment while he kicked away all of the wrapping paper from around his feet.

"Fine, woman, but I want the prettiest, biggest, most expensive guitar in the whole music store, you got that?" he exclaimed, shoving his finger at her threateningly.

"Yes, yes of course, whatever you'd like my baby boy, after all, it is your special day! Now go on, open all of your other presents!"

I finished the breakfast and set the table for just three before laying all the food out as well. When the fat oaf was finished opening his gifts and verbally abusing his mother, he joined the two of his parents at the table while I was instructed to clean up the mess left by Dudley in his mad pursuit to obliterate every trace of colorful paper keeping him from his lovely new toys.

After I had picked up and disposed of all the discarded wrapping paper, some of which had been clearly drooled on, I might add, I started to carry each of Dudley's presents up the stairs to the spare room where all of his possessions were kept.

"We're leaving for the cirque now, boy! Stay here and finish cleaning up while we're gone. And don't forget to bake your cousin that cake, you hear me? And if it's not to his exact liking, so hear me, it will be the last scrap of food you'll see for a month!" Vernon threatened as he draped a grey scarf around his thick neck and headed out to the car, followed by Petunia and a rather pushy sack of jello wearing shorts that seemed just a bit too small and a ridiculous hat that I'm sure went out of style long before he was born.

When the door slammed, I sighed briefly and turned back to my task of cleaning the den, but suddenly, an object caught my eye. Resting in the crack between the sofa and the fireplace was the guitar that Dudley had chucked at Petunia. It was still in perfect condition, aside from a scratch across the front from where the wood had scraped across the brick edge of the chimney. I pulled it out, noticing that it had a book taped to the back of it that read "Guitar 101: A Manual".

Removing the book from the plastic sleeve, and neatly picking the tape from the back of the smooth, polished wood, I flipped through the pages briefly, reading the headlines of each chapter. On a whim, I dashed to the window, making sure the Dursley's were long gone before racing back to my cupboard and laying the green instrument on my cot for later. After carrying the last of my cousins new toys upstairs and putting the cake in the oven to bake, I returned to my bed, sitting on it and holding the instrument in my lap while I opened the book to the first chapter. Putting my fingers to the strings, I started to read and do what the manual instructed, and for a few short hours, other than the break i took to remove the cake from the oven, I immersed myself in learning how to play instrument. The strings started to cut into the tips of my fingers, but I kept playing. For once, it really did seem like there was nothing to worry about, like there was nothing wrong in my life. I would go as far as to say that it brought me comfort.

Suddenly, behind the satisfying sounds of metal strings being plucked, I hear three car doors slam just outside, signaling the return of my dreadful family. Frantically searching for a place to stow the instrument so that nobody would see it, I settled for the spot between my cot and the wall, gently lowering the wooden instrument onto the floor and tossing the book down with it, just in time for me to throw myself onto the bed as Vernon pulled open the door and stuck his pug-like face into view.

"Boy, what in heavens are you doing laying around, you have plenty of chores to keep you busy! Get up, get up, you lazy buffoon, you remind me of your good-for-nothing father!" he howled down at me. I froze, quivering in anger.

"You listen here, you pathetic man! Don't you ever speak about my father, ever! I'll kill you! I swear one day, I'll kill you!" I screamed in pure fury. Simultaneously, the ceiling light in the hallway exploded, showering Mr. Dursley with searing hot broken glass just as the door to my cupboard swung inward and smacked him in the face, locking for good measure and knocking him onto his fat bottom and onto a pile of freshly shattered glass. I watched from the shutters on my door as he got up, embedding more glass into his hands as he scurried away, shambling and knocking things off of the walls as he screeched for Petunia. I laughed quietly, and already knowing that I'd be going to bed without supper, I settled onto my bed, pulled out my newly acquired book on how to play guitar, and started to read it, cover to cover.

I didn't quite understand all of it, but I supposed that I would better after I had been playing for a while. I read and I read until I was about to pass out, and I slipped the book back into its hiding place just before letting sleep reach me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Happy Birthday, Harry. Make a wish." I whispered to myself before blowing away the cake I had drawn into the dirt floor. I wouldn't be here, if it weren't for all those letters coming. I just wish I knew what they said! The moment Vernon laid eyes on them, he decided not to let me read them. He must be keeping something from me! Maybe it could even be about my parents. Maybe there's some distant relative that's been looking for me all this time and wants to take me in! That'd be the best birthday present I'd ever gotten, that's for sure.

I didn't really mind it, on the old rocky island. I found it to be peaceful, with the waves lapping against the shore and the rain battering the old stone walls. I even found comfort in the lightning that made my heart race every minute or so.

And with the very next lightning strike, the door suddenly burst open, or should I say, burst down, because suddenly the wood was thudding loudly against the floor, and a giant, shaggy man stepped in, and I didn't bother to shut my gaping jaw as he moved aside, looking down at the door.

"Sorry 'bout that!" The man exclaimed cheerily as he leaned over and picked the door up, shoving it back into place in the door frame. It seemed that no one had been awoken by the racket, so I just gazed up at the man as he turned around to face me.

"Harry? Is tha' you? Godric's Beard, it's been eleven 'ole years, but I'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Your mother's, didja know? Prettiest little ones I ever seen, that's for sure!" he said, laughing deeply when he was done talking. I didn't really know what to say to that, so I just continued to stare.

"Oh, I ought to introduce meself, eh? Well, me name's Rubeus Hagrid, but you can call me Hagrid. Keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts. O' course, you know all about Hogwarts, dontcha?" He said.

"Do I have to add "keeper of keys and grounds" to the end of your name, or can I just call you Hagrid? And what's Hogwarts?" I said, chastising myself internally for the exceedingly stupid response. Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts, merely laughed.

"Yer just like your father, aren't ya? Always got a smart response right up his sleeve. His quick tongue got him into a fair bit of trouble, many a time! If it weren't fer yer mother, I bet he'd still be servin' detention to this day! That is well, er... y'know, if he hadn't, er..."

"If he hadn't died in a car crash with my mum?" I responded for him.

"Are you kiddin' me? The great James and Lily Potter, died in a car crash? You mean to tell me that you don't know how your parents really died, Harry?" Hagrid responded heatedly. I had a million thoughts running through my head, but I managed to push them all aside in order to ask my next question, but before I could, Hagrid interrupted me.

"They were, uh... Well, they... they were killed, Harry. Not by a car crash or from a disease but... well, they were murdered by the greatest dark wizard ever known," Hagrid said drearily. For a moment, I almost thought he was serious. I almost wanted to laugh in his face, proclaim that wizards weren't real, but I held back the spiteful response I almost gave him. He moved to the fire, removed an old, broken umbrella from the folds of his coat, and pointed it at the fire, and suddenly, it was blazing brightly. This moment was punctuated by Dudley snorting loudly, asleep on the couch.

"How... what... that..." I started.

"You mean... you don't know? About Hogwarts or wizards or... or anythin'? You're a wizard, Harry! A bloody good one, I bet, once you get a proper schoolin' in the magical arts. That's what Hogwarts is. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And that reminds me, the whole point of me comin' 'ere!" Hagrid said. His tone was completely normal, almost too normal. It's like it was just every day that you tell someone that their parents were murdered and that oh, by the way, you just happen to be something that most people think only exists in fairy tales. It was ridiculous! While I debated this man's sanity, he searched the folds of his fur coat, and after a moment, handed me a letter. A letter that I had seen nearly a million of, but never gotten the chance to read. I took it in my hands, maybe even clutching it a little too tightly on the off chance that Vernon Dursley would swoop down out of nowhere to snatch it from my fingers, perhaps throw it out into the ocean this time.

But no such thing happened. I turned the letter over, popped the sticker sealing the envelope shut, pulled out and unfolded the letter, and started to read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The second page with requirements says:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

sets of plain work robes (black)

plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

I looked up to Hagrid, and he smiled down at me warmly. I looked down and re-read the letter again, particularly the beginning part.

"Does this mean that I won't have to live with the Dursley's anymore?" I asked hopefully.

"Well, ya see, you'll still have to live with 'em, but while school is in session, you'll stay at Hogwarts with the rest of the students. And don't ya worry 'bout bein' lonely, there'll be plenty of kids yer age there to keep ya company!" Hagrid exclaimed. And while not quite the answer I was looking for, I pitched myself forward at Hagrid, wrapping my rather short arms around his impossibly large midsection.

"You don't know how horrible it is to live with them. It's terrible, and I don't want to ever come back here." I admitted to him. I could tell that he was uncomfortable, sitting there patting the top of my head, so I let go of him. He motioned for me to stay put and tromped up the stairs, knocked down my Aunt and Uncles door, and started to shout at them. I heard large, metal objects being thrown and glass being shattered, and somehow the distressed hiss of a cat, and suddenly everything was silent.

"And if I hear even the slightest little whisper of you mistreatin' that poor boy, the littlest inkling that you've upset him, and I'll be paying you a visit very soon, ya hear that, Dursley?" I heard Hagrid shout into the door at my cowering relatives. He trudged back down the stairs to me.

"Well, Harry? Are ya ready ta go?" He said, his big, round face making me smile as I nodded up at him.


End file.
